


Would you if you could (remember)

by katherynefromphilly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friends Finding Each Other Again, Gen, Gwaine Didn't Die, It's Eoin Macken's Fault For That Thing He Said About Gwaine Not Dying, Post-Canon, Some angst, Some feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katherynefromphilly/pseuds/katherynefromphilly
Summary: A prompt caused by Eoin Macken's interview with SyFy Now, in which he says:“I actually don’t think he died.” He tells us, “I think it’s more Percival had to go and do this thing and Gwaine was just unconscious, he would have woken up and everything was fine. I mean, obviously, he didn’t appear in the court after that so in my opinion he woke up with no memory and went on his travels again."This story takes place some years after that, when Merlin tends to Gwaine as an older man, and Gwaine is given a choice:If you could remember a life from long ago, would you?





	Would you if you could (remember)

Gwaine leans back in bed as his wife and son leave him in his physician’s care, both of them casting uncertain looks at Merlin, who though he appears no more than a youth, is apparently anything but. 

Everyone knows the Sorcerer of Avalon doesn’t age, after all.

Merlin tells his family not to worry, that Gwaine will be fine, and that the wound will heal, so long as he rests his leg, and behaves himself for once.

His wife glances over her shoulder, clearly doubting the likelihood of that, her silver hair shining in the sun, not quite as white as his own.  

When Merlin returns to his bedside, he looks as unconvinced as she is at his potential compliance.  

Like a friend, Gwaine thinks.  He looks at me like I’m a friend, instead of a patient.  But then, he always has, ever since they first met in Avalon, that year he’d lost his memory.

“Are you ever going to change?” Gwaine asks, shoving his old body up the mattress, grunting at the pain in his leg.  

Damned horse, he thinks again.  Should have gotten rid of the old nag years ago.  Hasn’t been able to plow a field worth a damn in a decade.

Merlin sits on the side of his bed, a small smile pulling at his lips, though his eyes hold echoes of pain.  “I’m not supposed to change.  So…”  He gestures to his neckerchief and tunic, breeches and boots, then picks some straw from his brown jacket, and shrugs.

Gwaine finds himself staring in response, because the angle of Merlin’s sharp face is abruptly and startlingly familiar.  

Out of nowhere he sees flashes of memory he’d never seen before; never known he’d even had.  

Of red flowing capes, of soaring castle walls, of blond hair in the sun.  

Of a golden dragon.  

Of a shining crown.  

It leaves him wide-eyed and breathless, because it’s the first time he has remembered - without searing agony - his life before that day he awoke in the forest, dressed in knights’ armor and barely able to recall his own name.

He tells Merlin this, and Merlin cringes, and tells him that it’s probably from the magic he worked, to heal Gwaine from his injury.  It’s possible, he says, that it also healed the magical injury he’d supposedly suffered those years ago. 

It’s possible, he adds, that if Gwaine would want it, he could help him to remember everything.

“It’s up to you, Gwaine,” Merlin finishes.

“If it were you who had forgotten so much of your life,” Gwaine says, “would you want to remember?”

Merlin flinches, and looks pained.  He goes silent and still, gaze drifting to the window, to the trees and valleys beyond the small village.  Seeing what, he doesn’t know.  But after a moment, it makes him smile, soft and sad.  “Yes,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.  “I would.”

“All right then,” Gwaine says.  “All right.”

When Merlin lays a thin hand upon his brow, the memories surface at once, emerging from the dark spaces in his mind, hundreds of faded splintered images knitting together into scenes as bright as sunlight. 

And just like that,  _he_   _remembers_.

Nights spent drinking in the Rising Sun; days spent riding in chainmail and armor; dawn turning the skies over Camelot pink and orange; snow falling thick over the Fortress of Ismere-

And oh god, he thinks-

Oh god-

Oh  _god_ -

His  _friends._

Percival, strongest of them all, weeping in despair, and Elyan, young and hopeful, murdered by the spiteful witch, and Mordred, the betrayer, who had deceived them all, and Leon, who lived still, caring for their Queen, the beautiful Gwen, who had loved them so, most of all-  

“Arthur,” Gwaine chokes out, his eyes flying open, tears spilling from them, remembering now how he’d failed, his friends, his kingdom, his king-

Desperate and despairing he looks wide eyed at Merlin, who is sitting so still by his side, tears sliding down his own face.  

“ _Merlin_ ,” he chokes out, and can’t continue, because it’s dizzying to look at him, this young-yet-not-young man who he’d known in later years as a traveling physician and the sorcerer of Avalon, but who had been his closest friend-

“I failed him,” Gwaine says, repeating the last words he had said as himself, the only words that mattered, the ones that were screaming from his heart, a cry that had wanted to be heard for decades. “Arthur died-  Because of me-  It was my fault-”

“What happened in Camlaan was my fault,” Merlin says, interrupting him, pressing a hand to his chest, settling him back to the bed.  “It was my destiny to stop it, and I didn’t, but- But- It’s going to be all right. Arthur’s going to be back.  The Once and Future King, they all call him.  You just wait.  Arthur will be back.  We just need to be patient.”

Gwaine looks into Merlin’s wide desperate eyes, a worrying hint of madness mixing with the hope there, and suddenly recalls the stories he’d heard.  About Emrys.  About  _Merlin_.

Dragonlord, the Druids call him.  

The Immortal One.

And Gwaine wonders, with a sick feeling in his stomach, if Arthur’s return is going to happen in his own lifetime, or in  _Merlin’s_. 

“We just need to be patient,” Merlin is saying, picking at the blanket, frowning to himself, as worried as he’d ever looked, those nights awaiting battle.

“So this is a pretty good trick you can do, making yourself look like a fresh faced kid,” Gwaine says, keeping his tone light, gesturing at Merlin’s appearance. “Shame it didn’t occur to you to take a little off the ears…”

Merlin’s sudden laugh is a delightful thing, especially mixed with the sight of his dark eyes crinkling into half moons, turning him into that young boy he’d met in the tavern so long ago.

Gwaine finds himself smiling back, feeling years younger himself, as he squeezes Merlin’s hand, and  silently makes one more promise to his king.

To look after Merlin, for as long as he can.

This time, it is a promise he knows he can keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the link to the Eoin Macken Interview: <https://www.scifinow.co.uk/news/merlins-eoin-macken-gwaine-isnt-dead/>
> 
> This story is a part of the canon-compliant "We Begin Again" 'Verse:  
> \- [Sweet Dreams of Mistletoe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909749): _4 Years Before Camlann_  
>  \- [The Return of Magic (Upon Dragon's Wings)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463959): _1 Year Post Camlann_  
>  \- [Would you if you could (Remember)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749296): _30 Years Post Camlann_  
>  \- [And Like The Cycle Of The Year We Begin Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092269/chapters/13964185): _1,500 Years Post Camlann... When Arthur Returns_  
>  \- [Our Destinies Our Own](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736473/chapters/36588432): _Story picks up the same day We Begin Again ends_


End file.
